Every morning I am greeted with a pressing question, "What do you want to be called?" This might seem like an odd question, especially considering that it is my daughter who asks me. My answer, although it rarely changes, doesn't satisfy her; "She can call me Franca, I'll be her Fra!" To this Sidney responds, "You're her Grandmother, she cannot call you Franca!"
It's January 3rd, 7PM. I'm in the waiting room at NYU Langone Medical Center, waiting for Verusca to arrive. I knew this day would come but never thought it would would be so soon.
We rushed her to the hospital, after hours of laboring at home, in the middle of a snowstorm so I knew it wouldn't be long now. Suddenly, I got the big news, Sidney's labor has stalled and she's exactly where she was when we checked in. A few more hours of awkward silence and my daughter Alanna, calls me in tears, to tell me that I am officially a Grandmother.
As I started to walk towards the delivery room, I couldn't help but think back to that March 18th so many years ago when I first saw Sidney. She was my second (and last) baby, labor was not too long and much easier than the first time around, but that didn't make it any less special. I remembered hearing her crying for the first time and thinking she would never pass unnoticed. The first thing I saw when I walked in was Sidney, she was filled with love, happiness and relief. The baby was healthy and perfect and Verusca is the spitting image of her mother. All of a sudden it hits me. I should be called Rara. Now I am a Grandmother.
